I do not own the rights to anything Disney. Spoilers for Frozen.
Breaking Bread
Hansel reminded Grete of a wild animal. Skittish, and ready to run if she made any sudden movements. The way he nearly jumped out of skin when she started to talk to him, and how his mouth seemed to water at the roll and her hand, yet his eyes were full of distrust indicated he had been through something horrible. Then again, Mia, who was six could have figured it out due to the state of his clothes. Tears everywhere, and no winter items at all. He had a scraggly beard with red hair growing in every direction. His beard hadn't ben shaved in a while, let alone trimmed.
Grete silently guessed he must have been on the road for quite a well, but didn't dare ask. If she got too inquisitive, he might take off and then who knows what would happen.
"My family owns the bakery over there," she said pointing her right hand behind her. "We could get you a hot bath, and give you the small room by the kitchen for a place to sleep tonight."
His face scrunched up in confusion. "Why?" he asked. "You don't know me, I could be a madman for all you know. Didn't your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "One," she said, pointing her right index finger at him, "my family can see everything going on in their store window." To prove her point she turned around and waved. Hans could see two figures inside wave back. "Two, we're in Corona. The Prince Consort used to be a thief, and an orphan before that. He stole for survival. He and Princess Rapunzel believe the best way to decrease crime, is to increase charity. They've encouraged people to give to those in need and even set up shelters. That's where I was headed before I ran into you, on my way to donate food."
Hansel blinked at her, taking her words in. He must have been on the road for a very long time, there were few people around who hadn't heard of the changes in Corona. Some foreigners called them fools, while others called them generous. While not all the crime was gone from Corona, crimes being committed out of desperation in need to survive had gone down. It helped that all the ruffians and thugs at the nearby Snuggly Duckling had reformed, some even joining the guards or joining other occupations. There would always be those who committed crimes out of greed, jealousy, or arrogance, but Grete liked to think that overall, Corona was a better place.
Now if she could only convince Hansel of that.
"Warm bath, safe place to sleep, decent food, maybe even a job... unless you're going to get any better offers out here?"
"No."
"But-"
"Grete, I'm with your father on this. I know the prince and princess want us to be more charitable towards those in need, but why should we let some stranger into our home?"
Grete was having a hard time convincing her parents to let Hansel stay the night. He was currently in the back near the ovens, trying his best to dissuade Gertrude, the family dog, from sniffing and licking him all over. Grete was with her parents in the front of the store, which had been closed for an hour ago, to have a private conversation. As private of a conversation one could have since all her of her sisters were gathered on top of the stairs on the landing, ears straining to hear the conversation below them.
"Just hear me out," she said. "Papa, your back and leg have been hurting you for a while, and you're having a hard time carrying supplies around the bakery. You need help-"
"Frank and Paul are more than enough help," insisted Rueben, referring to Grete's cousins.
Seeing where Grete was steering the conversation and finding herself suddenly in agreement with her daughter, Gretchen interjected, "Yes, but both will be leaving soon- Frank's got an apprenticeship with the butcher down the road, and Paul will soon be joining the guards at the castle. You could do with somebody to help you with the heavy lifting around here."
"And you don't even have to worry about him being of Josef's men," added Grete. Josef was the baker who had made several attempts in the past to find out the secret of their Burg bread. He had attempted to bribe some of their family who work there, approached Grete and her sisters in the street before, and had even offered her father a large sum of money for the recipe. The attempts had never been successful though, but it wouldn't be beneath Josef to send one of his people into the bakery as a worker. "He knew nothing of the reform in Corona, and well, look at him. He's been on the road for some time and is from a foreign land. Papa please," said Grete taking his hands into hers, "we all want you to be around for a very long time. You can't do that if you get hurt from overworking yourself."
Rueben looked at his daughter and his wife said, "Your daughter has a point, Reuben, and Gertrude approves of him."
"My daughter," he scoffed. "Why is it whenever she has an idea, she's my daughter and not yours? Fine, I give in. He has a week to prove himself and he sleeps in the kitchen away from my daughters."
"Shouldn't you be telling him that and not us?" asked Grete.
Her father tweaked her nose. "You're lucky you're cute," he said as he walked toward the kitchen where Hansel was waiting. Gertrude sitting by his side, pawing him occasionally for attention.
As her father exited the room, Grete's mother leaned over to him and said with a smirk, "Your father is like bread. Crusty on the outside, but soft on the inside- especially when it comes to his daughters."
Thwack.
"Be a little gentler Hansel, the dough will never rise if you beat the flour to death first," joked Frank. His uncle Rueben had told him to show Hansel what to do at the bakery before Frank left for good to be a butcher. He had been showing Hans where the supplies were when Frank's aunt Gretchen yelled for more flour. Since Hans would be doing the job in the future, Frank decided it'd be best to let him bring the flour in- he didn't know Hans would drop it like a bag of potatoes instead of a bag of flour which could easily rip open.
"Whatever," muttered Hans, not really caring. Sure his current living conditions were an improvement, but he was a prince by birth, not a manual worker. He had done odd jobs while on the road, but they were temporary. Hans didn't know if he could work in a bakery for the rest of his life. It was so... meh. Not befitting of royalty. Hans had ambitions to prove himself to his father and brothers. King and prince probably weren't career options at this point, but he could still end up as an adviser, diplomat... something more impressive than a baker. Actually he wasn't even a baker, just a lowly laborer who happened to work at a bakery. His brothers would be so impressed with that title.
Gretchen looked from where he slammed the bag on the wooden table she was using in the kitchen to Hans. "Frank, go home, you've done enough for today."
Frank nodded, and hung up his apron by the back door. He gave one last pat on the head to Gertrude before leaving for good.
Hans turned away, but Gretchen grabbed his arm. "What's wrong?"
Startled by her question, Hans blink a couple times in confusion. "I don't...what makes you think something's wrong?"
She put a hand on her hip and stared at him. "You stomp about, glare at everybody, snap at people, and just treated the flour like a mortal enemy. In the past two days, you've acted worse than my two teenage daughters. Now, what's wrong? Do you not like it here? Is there something we did?"
"No-o-o," stuttered Hans. He had told the Burgs very little about himself. Just that his last name was Anders, he was from Ferdi's kingdom, and all of his family was gone. Which in a way, was true. Sort of. Realizing that Gretchen wasn't going to leave him alone until she was satisfied, he wracked his brain trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't reveal his true origins and wouldn't require him going to the king and queen of Corona only to be banished, again. "Um... it's just... nothing I've ever done could please my family. When I said they were gone, I didn't mean they had died. I meant they no longer considered me part of the family."
There. That should satisfy her and was near to the truth as he could get. Gretchen pulled a coin out of her pocket and placed it in Hans' hand. "Down the street is Josef's bakery. Go there and buy a bread roll."
"What?"
"Do it, for me," said Gretchen. "When you've got the roll, come straight back here."
"Get a roll, she said. Why should I get a roll when they have plenty of their own?" muttered Hans as he made his way down the street. He had very little interaction with the villagers so far, so many snuck looks at him, curious to see the new worker at Burg's bakery. One or two tried to come up to him to make conversation, or sell their wares, or gossip about how the Prince and Princess were expecting, but Hans waved them away. He wasn't in the mood to talk to them. He had a stupid roll to attend to.
Ten minutes later and he was at Josef's bakery. It wasn't exactly hard to miss- there was writing on the windows, on the writing above the windows, and of course the large sign above the door proclaiming the building to be Josef's bakery. The Burg's were a lot more subtle- a simple sign depicting a pretzel with the words, 'Burg Family Bakery'. The other buildings along the street shared the Burg's simple style, and weren't as loud as Josef's signage in a gaudy gold color. While yellow was one of Corona's colors, it wasn't as bright and flashy as the color on Josef's shop. Hans secretly suspected he was overcompensating for something. What that something was, he didn't know yet.
Wanting to get his shopping trip over with, Hans opened the door and entered the shop. For being mid-afternoon, the place wasn't very crowded, at least not as crowded as the Burg's. There were a few people milling about, but not enough that Hans had to wait in a line. There were several different types of rolls available, but Hans just grabbed the closest one and walked up to the counter to pay.
A roly-poly looking man was on the other side. He was shorter than Hans, and had combed over his dark hair in an attempt to conceal his bald spot. The Duke of Weselton's toupee was a better concealer than the hair.
Taking stock of the roll in Hans' hand, the man scoffed. "Is that all? Surely a strapping lad such as yourself could make do with a few loaves of bread, or some cupcakes for your sweetheart? What about some cranberry muffins?"
"The roll is fine," insisted Hans, and put the coin Gretchen had given him on the counter.
The man made a grab for it, but then stopped. "Hang on, you're Reuben's new worker... and yet you're here. Smart boy."
Hans bristled at being called a boy. He hadn't been a boy in years, and was rather close to telling the guy off, or the real reason he'd come in. Then he stopped, realizing that telling him Reuben's wife had sent him in to buy a roll probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, at least for Gretchen's sake.
The man held out his hand to Hans. "Josef Holst, owner of Josef's bakery."
Reluctantly, Hans took his hand and shook it. "Hansel Anders."
"Now Hansel," said Josef, "tell me, how is Rueben treating you over there? Has he trusted you with the secret ingredient yet?"
"Secret ingredient?" asked Hans, puzzled. He had been shown many things in the past two days, but none of which he would classify as secret.
Josef shook his head, and tutted. "Oh Hansel, I'm afraid Rueben doesn't trust you at all. Not much of a surprise considering he's refused to tell anybody, even his fellow bakers the secret to his Burg bread. Say, here's an idea- what if you snoop about and find out what it is, and bring it to me. I'll reward you handsomely, 10,000 gold coins."
Hans knew when he was being manipulated, his brothers had done it often enough to him over the years. He also knew within minutes of meeting him, Josef was a squirrely, greedy little man, willing to do anything for money- which Hans did understand. Yet, 10,000 gold coins was so tempting. The Burgs had been rather nice to take him in, something he doubted Josef would have done. But 10,000 gold coins...
He could buy a ship and sail to the Southern Isles, and show off his new found wealth to his brothers. And if they weren't impressed, he could always hire a band of mercenaries to get his point across, perhaps seize the throne for himself. Then again, he doubted his gold would go far enough to buy the amount of mercenaries or bribe the amount of palace guards needed to take over the Southern Isles.
Instead, he could buy himself a brand new wardrobe and charm some foreign princess, or become an adviser to the king. Or perhaps invest the money in trade, and receive more money thanks to his investments.
There were so many things he could do with the 10,000 coins, and all would be better than being a worker at a bakery.
After some debate, he replied, "I'll think about it." His response was worthy of a prince- not committing to anything, but leaving several possibilities nonetheless. If he found the ingredient Josef was referring to, he could bring it to him. If not, or if he got cold feet, well he hadn't said yes, so Josef couldn't hold him to anything.
Josef nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand your dilemma. Reuben has taken you into his home, but at the same time doesn't quite trust you. Take a few days to think it over and let me know." Josef shoved the coin back to Hans. "The roll is on the house. Think of it as an investment."
Hans knew enough about Josef to realize he had to be quite certain that Hans would follow through, in order to give up the coin. Only the promise of more coins would be enough for Josef to let go of one. That thought, combined with not wanting to be beholden to Josef, caused Hans to shove the coin back to Josef. "No, I insist. Wouldn't want word getting out that you're giving out your food for free, right?"
Josef laughed, his stomach bouncing up and down. "Of course," he said and picked up the coin, putting it into his pocket. "I like the way you think Hansel. You and I could go far together."
Hans smiled politely and grabbed his roll as he walked out the door.
He and Josef could go far together, indeed.
"Ah," said Gretchen as he entered the kitchen. "Put the roll down on the table."
Hans obliged, and placed the roll where Gretchen had indicated. Gretchen left the room, entering the front part of the building where the bakery was, before returning with a roll of similar size and color.
"People are like bread. Bread can come in a variety of types, sizes, and flavors, take these two rolls here. One is from our bakery and one is from Josef's."
"Alright..." said Hans, who really didn't know where the conversation was going. People were like bread? That was one of the craziest things he had ever heard of, including the time he thought he saw a magical snowman... in summer.
Gretchen picked up a nearby knife. "On the outside they look similar, but on the inside..." her voice trailed off as she cut each roll neatly in half. "On the inside, they are different. This one," she said, indicating the one on the left, "is from Josef's bakery. And this one," she said, indicating to the one on the right, "is from our bakery. Both breads are the same type and same age. Yet, Josef's bread is bland and stale, and ours is fresh and delicious. See?"
She handed Hans a piece of each roll, and he found himself agreeing with her. Josef's roll was indeed stale and bland, he had a hard time of swallowing one bite and wished he had a glass of water to help it down. Meanwhile, the roll from the bakery was light and airy. It tasted just like the one Grete had given him, almost as if he was eating a cloud.
"Now, the rolls looked the same on the outside, but tasted different on the inside. The reason is the ingredients. Josef cares more about his profit than the quality of his product, ordering the cheapest ingredients possible. Us Burgs take pride in our work and it shows in our food."
"Okay, I get that, but what does that have to do with me?"
Gretchen smiled and cupped his chin in her hand. "People are like bread. How they turn out depends on what goes into them. Right now, the anger and hate you have in your heart towards your family are Josef's ingredients. As long as you keep it in, you'll turn out like his bread- bland and stale. But if you let it all go, and enjoy the life you have now, you could be Burg bread. Don't be Josef bread Hansel, be Burg bread."
When she was done with her little speech, she patted his cheeks gently as if he was a child. For some reason, being treated like a boy wasn't as insulting as when Josef had done so. "Take the rest of the roll outside and feed it to the birds. Rueben will have a fit if he spots Josef's bread inside his own bakery."
Hans did as he was told, thinking her words over. In a weird way, they made sense. His actions in Arendelle could be traced to his feelings toward his family, and look how things had turned out. At the same time, it wasn't as if he could let go of everything in an instant. All the years of being ignored, or not being good enough. The desire to hear his father say just once, "I love you". Or the urge to pummel his brothers and have them beg for mercy at his feet.
It was so easy for Gretchen to tell him to let it go and be Burg bread.
But how did one go about doing it?
Hans had a lot to think about over the next several days between Josef's proposition and Gretchen's advice.
He was currently in the kitchen, where he spent most of his time working. At the moment he was busy washing the numerous bowls, pots, and utensils the bakery used each day. Gretchen and Reuben were in the front minding the customers, while Grete was making pretzels with Becca in the kitchen. Gertrude was nearby, patiently letting Grete's younger sisters braid her hair. Hans didn't envy her, he had woken up his first day to the sight of flowers and braids in his beard. Paul had been nice enough to trim Hans' beard enough where it would be too short to braid, but still conceal his face. Hans wasn't sure if he would stay in the kingdom, but thought a beard would at least obscure his sideburns and keep somebody from recognizing him.
"Hansel, are you okay?" asked Grete.
His head jerked up at the question. He and Grete had interacted very little since she had first invited him insider her home, so the question seemed a little out of nowhere. Had her mother talked to her? Told her to keep an eye on him?
"I'm fine," he answered. "Why do you ask?"
Grete shrugged and continued with rolling out the dough for the pretzels. "You've been really quiet today, more so than usual. Something on your mind?"
Hans' first reaction was to answer 'no', but then realized Grete might actually be able to help him. "I keep hearing something about the bakery's bread with a special ingredient in the marketplace. Mind explaining?"
"Papa's always experimenting with the bread. Years ago he found one ingredient from the forest outside of Corona that makes the bread last longer, and keeps pests and rodents away from it. We only use it in the Burg bread since only small patches of it grow," answered Grete.
"Wait, so you know what it is?"
"She's the only one who knows besides Papa," commented Becca.
Grete rolled her eyes. "Only because I was with him when he found it."
"Why keep it sch a secret, why not share it with the world?" asked Hans.
"Because," groaned Grete, who was used to the question and tired of answering it all the time, "It's only available in limited amounts. Papa and I've tried getting to grow elsewhere, but it won't. And because it's so limited, if everybody knew about, they'd take it all, and it'd never grow back."
That, actually made sense to Hans. He doubted Grete would lie to him about the limited quantity of the ingredient, which sounded like some sort of plant. If it was as limited as she claimed, he could certainly see Josef abusing the small amount available.
"Grete, my pretzels aren't turning out like yours," whined Becca who had crumpled her dough back up into a ball to try again.
"Nobody makes pretzels like Grete," said one of the younger sisters who had come over to join in the conversation. Hans didn't remember her name, he couldn't tell any of the four younger sisters apart.
"Yeah," agreed another one, the littlest of the sisters. "Grete's pretzels, Grete's pretzels," she said, taunting Grete, who just ignored her. When that wasn't getting her attention, the youngest upped the ante. "Gretel's pretzels, Gretel's pretzels."
That did the job and Grete turned around. "All four of you, outside, now."
The four listened to their eldest sister and scampered out the back door, with Gertrude close behind, eager to look after the youngest Burg's. All four sang, "Gretel's pretzels" on their way out, annoying Grete to no end.
Becca giggled. "You have to admit, it is quite catchy. You strike me as more of a Gretel than a Grete too. I think I'll start calling you from that on."
"My name is Grete," she insisted, but could see her sister wasn't going to listen.
Hans, who had been taking it all in stride, decided to join in. Grete had put his mind to ease about one of the thoughts plaguing his mind, and he was in a much better mood. "Whatever you say, Gretel."
Grete was ready to smack them both, but her mom stuck her head into the kitchen. "Grete, Hansel, Jakob's here with the week's supplies. I'll send him around back."
Hans frowned. "I understand why she told me the supplies had arrived, but why you?"
"Because Mama thinks Jakob and Gretel would make a good match," giggled Becca. "Gretel disagrees."
"Really?" asked Hans, amused, and not just at the fact Becca was continuing with calling her sister Gretel.
Grete waved a hand. "He's alright, just a bit too much for my taste."
Hans wanted to ask 'a bit too much what', but he didn't get the chance since that was the moment Jakob opened the back door. Hans assumed it was Jakob, and by Becca's and Grete's reactions he was right. Jakob was tall and skinny, rather lanky looking with tall black hair that jutted in every direction. His glasses kept slipping down his nose, and he would just keep pushing them back up with his index finger.
"Where's Frank? I have a wagon full of supplies outside just waiting to be unloaded," said Jakob, with another push of his glasses.
"Frank got an apprenticeship as a butcher, Hansel replaced him," replied Grete.
Jakob held out a hand, which Hansel took. "Glad to meet you Hansel. I have some papers for Grete to sign saying she got everything the bakery ordered. Are you alright unloading everything yourself?"
Hans nodded, it was his job after all. He wiped his wet hands on his apron to quickly dry them, and went outside where the wagon was waiting. There were several crates, bags, and barrels full of goods, and Hans unloaded them all, grateful that Frank had shown him where everything went ahead of time.
He had just finished unloading the last bag crate, containing easily breakable eggs when he heard an argument coming from the kitchen. Curious, he walked out of the pantry and into the large kitchen only to find Jakob and Grete in what seemed to be a heated discussion.
"Grete, come with me! It'll be fun, we'll see places like Arendelle, Agrabah, and other lands you don't even know existed!"
"Jakob, I don't want to go to foreign lands, I want to stay here, in Corona! And what's so wrong with Corona anyway that makes you want to leave so badly?"
"There's adventure out there! Don't you want to go on an adventure?"
Grete looked rather exacerbated and Hans guessed that she was about to lose it. He cleared his throat. "Ahem, Gretel, could you help me? I can't remember where the sugar goes..."
"Her name is not Grete, it's Gretel," puffed up Jakob, indignant that Hans couldn't remember her name.
"Actually it's Gretel now, here's your paperwork. I'd love to have this discussion further, but I have to get back to work, and I'm guessing you do too. Good luck on your journey," said Gretel as she practically forced Jakob out the back door before he could get one last word in.
She wiped her hands on her apron. "You said something about sugar?"
Hans nodded, and led her to the pantry. "Um... I guess I must have remembered where it went after all," he said sheepishly.
Gretel leaned against the door frame with her arms cross, and a look on her face that reminded Hans of her mother. "Uh-huh. You never had an issue with the sugar, did you? Thanks, by the way. Jakob... he has a hard time with letting go of an idea once he sets his mind on it. He's been wanting to travel on his family's merchant ships for a while, and now that he's of age, his parents are going to let him go. And he wanted me to come with him..."
"As his wife," finished Hans.
"It's not that I don't want to get married," said Gretel as she twisted her apron around in her hands. "It's just... I'm not ready to commit myself to a person, especially to Jakob. He's more like an annoying cousin or brother than a husband."
"I know," said Hans, and Gretel's head shot up. "I was, sort of engaged... it didn't end well," he explained. "It was quick, and I kind of broke it off once I realized I really wasn't in love."
Which was the truth. Hans had left out the part where he tried to kill his fiancee, but figured that might be a bit too much information.
"Wow," responded Gretel. "That's really mature of you. I wish Jakob could be like that. He's always talking about marriage and adventures, and neither sound that great. Look at you, on the road for all those months and seeing all those foreign lands... didn't seem like it was all that wonderful."
"It wasn't," agreed Hans. His circumstances were traveling were a bit different than Jakob though. Perhaps Jakob would fare better with actual money and support from his family. "Can I ask you something, Gretel? I know you said your father needed help around the bakery since Paul and Frank were leaving, but why me? Why not some random guy from the shelter?"
The question had been on his mind since the day before, when he had actually dropped off some food at the shelter. Men, women, and children had been there to get a hot meal, some newer clothes, to get out of the cold for a bit, or to see if any new jobs had been posted on the wall near the front. Hans realized that he would probably have ended up there too, if it hadn't been for the Burgs' generosity. While the shelter would have given him food and a bed, Hans would have hated ending up in one, being forced to rely on a hand-out for a survival. It would have been a low point for him, and made him a little more grateful for Gretel taking pity on him, and less inclined to follow through on Josef's offer.
Gretel shrugged. "I guess it was because you were out of town, so there was less chance of you working for Josef." She didn't notice him wincing slightly at that, and continued on. "And your eyes... they were so sad, and scared. It seemed like you could do with a break and somebody taking mercy on you."
The irony of Gretel's last sentence wasn't lost on Hans. He had needed mercy. He had just assumed it would come from his father, his brothers, or a king. It had never occurred to him it'd come from a daughter of a baker.
"Thanks, for that," he said quietly, not quite sure what he was saying. He had very rarely said thanks before in his life, let alone was sincere about it.
Gretel smiled at him, a very pretty smile he noticed. "You're welcome."
Hans' room was small, and on the other side of the pantry. It had been used for storage in the past, until it had been cleaned out a few years ago. Then it was used as a mini-break room of sorts, until it was given to Hans to use as a bedroom. There wasn't much in it, just a cot to sleep on, and a mirror with a small dresser beneath it. Inside were clothes that used to belong to Reuben that Gretchen had taken in to fit Hans. Compared to his room on the ship and where he had been sleeping the past few months, it was heaven.
At the moment though, he was having a hard time sleeping. Instead, he was looking at his father's letter and mulling over what to do. It was dark, but he didn't need to see the words. Those words had been ingrained into his memory months ago. The letter itself, was close to falling apart, and in nearly as bad condition as his clothes had been when he had first arrived in Corona.
It turned out, Hans remembered where he'd seen the colors before- one of the ships at Elsa's coronation had sported the colors and insignia. At one point during the coronation he could remember being introduced into the Princess of Corona, Rapunzel, and her Prince Consort. He had other things on his mind at the time such as his impending marriage to Anna and throne to claim, so he hadn't paid them much attention.
Perhaps that's why he had said Hansel rather than Hans when Gretel asked his name. Some little part of his frozen brain recognized the significance of the colors and realized that since the country's own prince and princess had been present for the coronation, they might not be so welcoming toward him. And Hans couldn't have dealt with another banishment, one more rejection.
He supposed it still wasn't too late to go to the castle and present his father's letter. But he didn't want to. He was actually starting to like it at the bakery. It may not have been what he imagined he would do when he was younger, but the Burgs were so different from the family he had grown up in. There were a lot of them, six children versus thirteen, but they were so close. They were loud and warm, whereas his family had been cold and distant. In less than a week he had felt more wanted and loved in the bakery than he had felt his entire life at the castle.
Part of him wondered if his family could have been like that if his mother had survived his birth. If she would have hugged him, and told him it was okay he wasn't born a Hanna. If she would have stepped in and told his three brothers to not ignore him for those two years. Nobody else seemed to care about him, perhaps she would have. There's a knot in his chest that he was unaware of having when he thought of his mother. His family had never talked much about her when he was younger, and he only knew what she looked like due to the paintings around the castle. Sometimes he would talk to them, and pretend that she would talk back and have a conversation with him.
He stopped once the twins caught him at it, and made fun of him. They told him he could have had actual conversations if he'd been born a girl and hadn't killed his mother.
It'd been a while since he thought about his mother. Going over Gretchen's speech in his mind, he discovered that he wanted it to be the sort of speech his own mother would have given him if she lived.
The sound of breaking glass caused him to jolt out of his daydreams. Gertrude wasn't barking, so he supposed it could be one of the family, but he still went to investigate since something doesn't feel right. Silently he walked out of his room and down the short hallway that lead to the kitchen. Gertrude was no where to be found, and the figure was rummaging through drawers and jars with only a candle for a light source.
That's when Hans knew something was wrong. If the intruder had been one of the family, they wouldn't be acting so stealthily. They also wouldn't have been startled when Hans appear in the kitchen- they would have known where his room was.
"What are you doing here?" growled Hans at the intruder. To his surprise, he was rather miffed that somebody broke into the bakery. It wasn't his bakery, wasn't his family, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding in his chest at the thought of harm coming to the Burgs.
The intruder held the candle out to light Hans' face and sighed, relieved. "Thank goodness, it's just you Hansel. You were taking your time getting back to me, so I decided to come do some investigating of my own."
Hans recognized the voice as belonging to Josef. Hans supposed he should be surprised the lengths the man would go to for the recipe, but he's not. Hans had tried to kill two people for a throne, which breaking and entering couldn't compare to.
"Get out of here," hissed Hans. He understood why Josef broke in, but he didn't want to wake the family and discover him. What if the family awoke? What if they assumed Hans was in league with Josef? Hans was just starting to like his job, he didn't want to lose it because of this idiot.
"I will, as soon as I find the ingredient. Unless you know where it is? Ten thousand gold coins, Hansel. Just tell me where it is."
Hans didn't know, but judging by the way the light from the candle reflected off of Josef's eyes, he wouldn't believe Hans. There was a crazy gleam in them, and Hans realized just how obsessed Josef is with the ingredient. Hans knew that gleam, it's one he'd seen reflected in the mirror so many times. It's one of passion, anger, and jealousy all rolled into one. A look that belonged to a man who's willing to do anything to get what he wanted- even kill.
Determined to keep the family safe, Hans said, "I know where it is, it's this way, in the pantry."
A grin spreads across Josef's face. Like the gleam in his eye, it's the grin of somebody who's about to get what they always wanted. "I knew you were smart boy, I'll promise you'll be rewarded greatly for your help."
With a wave of his arm, Hans directed Josef in the direction of the pantry. As Josef passed, Hans discretely grabbed one of the rolling pins he had washed earlier that day off a shelf. Then, with a quick movement, Josef was on the ground unconscious, and Hans rushed to put out his candle before it could start a fire. On his way down, Josef had fallen into a shelving of pans, baking sheets, and bowls causing enough of a racket for the family to wake up and rush to the kitchen.
Gretchen, who was in the lead, reached Hans first and glanced between him and the unconscious Josef on the floor.
"Burg bread," was the only thing Hans said. And it's all he had to say to her.
It took nearly two hours before Hans was left alone in the kitchen. The glass had been swept up, the kingdom guard's had come and gone, taking Josef with them to be locked up permanently. Gertrude was found near the back door with a piece of meat close by, evidently drugged to keep her out of the way while Josef searched.
Rueben, upon realizing what Hans had done, had joyfully clapped him on the back and proclaimed that he didn't need a week to know Hans should stay. The girls, including Gretel, cheered a bit, while Gretchen looked on with a certain gleam in her eyes. It wasn't a gleam of anger and jealousy like Josef, and even Hans had in the past. It was a gleam of pride, and hope. Hans wouldn't have been surprised if this hadn't been Gretchen's true intention when she sent him to Josef's bakery. Though, she probably couldn't have counted on Josef resorting to robbery.
Once he was left alone in the kitchen, Hans went back to his bedroom and knelt on the ground. His fingers grasped the letter which had fallen to the ground when Hans had jolted out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. There was a fireplace in the kitchen, with a fire still going to heat the kitchen area, along with Hans' room. Barefoot, Hans walked on the cool wooden floor and toward it, letter in hand.
He looked down at the letter. Gretchen had said to let go of his past, of his hate and anger, and to be Burg bread. Tonight, Hans had seen what Josef bread turned out to be like first hand, and he didn't like it.
But letting go wasn't easy. The letter was the last tie he had to his father, to his former identity of being Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. Letting go wouldn't mean just letting go of all his anger and jealousy, but also letting go of all the hope for a reconciliation, for a happy ending with his family. Realistically, Hans knew those possibilities had sailed a long time ago, when he made his choice to betray Anna. That didn't mean he had stopped hoping.
Be Burg bread, not Josef bread. Those words ringed in Hans' ears. Be Burg bread, not Josef bread. He had been Josef bread his entire life, it was time to try being Burg bread.
He tossed the letter into the fire and watched as it caught on fire and disappeared. Along with it went his hopes of returning to the Southern Isles as a hero. Of showing his brothers up. Of being hugged by his father.
He was no longer Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. He was now Hansel Anders of Corona, who worked at the Burg Family Bakery.
He was now Burg bread.
And he was okay with that.
**Author's Note**
Four reviews for the last chapter, which is very exciting. I'd like to thank JanessaVR, Queen, Nagasha, and watery-silver for leaving reviews. They let me know what people think of the story and are always appreciated.
This chapter was supposed to be that long, originally I'd figured it be around 3,000-4,000 words max. Nope, it's just over 7,000. I don't think the other chapters will be as long, but I could still be wrong like I was about this chapter.
Some notes about this chapter. Assuming that Hans was telling the truth about being ignored for two years by three brothers in the movie, there's an extra bit of fridge horror to that- none of his family members, or adults in his life, noticed it was going on, or cared enough to do something about it. Think about that. Nobody cared enough to tell his brothers to knock it off, and while it's possible they may have not done the invisible act around adults, Hans probably would have at least complained to somebody- and nothing happened for two years. And the fact that his three brothers were committed for that long... wow.
Since Grete has officially accepted Gretel as her name, and Hans has accepted Hansel, that's what I'm referring to them from now on as. As the Doctor once put it, your real name doesn't matter, it's the name you choose, like a promise you make. Both Grete and Hans choose new names, and I'm going with those. Do I realize they sound very similar to some certain fairy tale characters? Yes, I do. Like Disney I'm taking a well-known tale and rewriting it for my own purposes, though the witch won't come in until towards the end.
Also, the secret ingredient will be explained more, laterish. I really wanted that rolling pin at the end to be a frying pan for a reference to Tangled, but realized he'd be more likely to come across a rolling pin rather than a frying pan in a bakery.
Next chapter is called, 'And The Beat Goes On'. It will jump about two to three years in the future and cover all the changes. Hansel will still be at the bakery, he and Gretel will be closer, there'll be a new member to the Burg household (though probably not who'd you guess), and some royal news (besides the subtle line in this chapter).
Thanks for reading, and if possible leave a review.